The hooves of a hundred horses and the roar of their riders was deafening. Men waved their weapons ahead of them, while spurring their mounts, desperate to be at the front of the line. There was little or no organization in this charge, it seemed as though Lucas and Rael were just there for the purposes of morale, the small group of Tiran soldiers couldn't hope to stand up against the might of the charge, but as it turned out, they weren't meant to.
Ral kept his horse in the center of the cavalry unit, instead of wasting energy by shoving his family's sword out in front of him, he simply unsheathed it and rested the blade upon his right shoulder. The pounding of unshod hooves and the war cries drifted away, the world becoming dead silent for the single heartbeat, before the front row of horses clashed headlong into the column of soldiers. Bellowing in pain, those men dumb, or proud enough to have rushed to the front of the line were unhorsed and their bodies were broken against the ground and spears of the soldiers. Then the second wave hit and they rode right through the now weakened Tiran shield wall. Axes, swords and maces cut down, cleaving armor and plate alike. Tiran soldiers fell to the ground, along with the first wave of horsemen.
Ral steered his old nag through the confusion, as arrows began to rain down upon them, a few horsemen went down under them and it was apparent that this was no expeditionary unit. This was a trap. Archers lifted themselves up or appeared in the tops of trees, not friendly archers either. Ral's old nag was hit in the chest by an arrow and the poor beast went down, throwing Ral to the ground as well. Luckily, Ral had slowed his mount to a trot as he had entered the fray, so the wind was merely knocked from his lungs as he fell head over heels to the ground.
With a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, one of the shining Tiran soldiers came running towards him. Ral, still without breath, fumbled around for his sword, which had been knocked from his grasp when he fell. His hand finally came to rest upon the pommel and he brought it around in a sweeping arc, his lungs burning with the strain. The sword bounced harmlessly off his enemy's shield, doing no more damage than causing the edge of the shield to knock into his attacker's helmet.
If Ral had not expended as much energy as he had, then the force of his blow connecting with the soldier's shield wouldn't have been enough to move Ral's head far enough to the side to avoid a blow that would have split his head open. As it was, the blow simply took a small piece of his ear and a great deal of hair. Ral was able to stave off more attacks by putting a foot to the soldier's shield and pushing him back, causing him to lose his balance and sit down hard.
Alexandria, Mei having already dismounted and began to work her magic, fell from the saddle beside her and took the bow from her shoulders. She took an arrow from the quiver upon her back and notched it, drawing back until her arms could go no further. She centered the arrowhead over the chest of one of the archers who stood in the trees, firing down upon the guerrillas. The arrow flew true and connected, the archer falling from the tree, as if felled by a bolt of lightning.
Smiling to herself, the bard pulled another arrow from her quiver, but before she had a chance to find a target, the air around the skirmish began to shimmer, like the desert on a very hot day. It obscured the frantic battle going on below Alexandria and Mei, they could no longer see anything, save for the twist and turn of vaguely human shapes. Suddenly, deep down in the pit of her stomach, she felt an ice come over her and she turned from the battle. All Alexandria knew was that something terrible was about to happen, and so she did the only thing she could; she tackled the mage to the ground, told her to cover her ears with her hands and open her mouth, then rolled into the fetal position herself, before all hell broke loose.
Meanwhile, Ral swung his sword around again in the opposite direction, forcing his opponent to block with his sword this time, which he wasn't nearly as good at. The force of the blades meeting sent both blades to ringing, but the soldier, with only one hand upon his weapon dropped his weapon to the ground as if it had suddenly become white hot.
Ral used this to his advantage and pulled the long pick from his belt, he struck low, taking the back of the soldier's boot in the hook at one end Ral pulled backwards with all of his might throwing the soldier to the ground. The passion of battle still hot in his mind, Ral struck down with his blade Justice and stabbed it straight down, through the heavy armor, chainmail and undershirt and directly into the man's chest. Red welled up from the greivous wound in his armor and stained the gleaming blade of Ral's ancestors. Suddenly, Ral wondered what his ancestors were thinking at this very moment, the blade they forged centuries earlier, to protect Tiran, had just been used, for the first time, to spill Tiran blood. "Forgive me, ancestors, but this is what I must do." Ral said softly, his voice lost in the clamor and noise, before he savagely tore the blade free of his now dead opponent.
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Lucas and Rael were in high spirits, there was no magic upon the battlefield, so they did not bother to bring their talents up, deciding to save the exertion for the battle. That single mistake would cost them dearly.
As the guerrillas clashed witht he Tiran soldiers it became clear that whatever they had stumbled upon, it was not an expeditionary unit. Their weapons were heavy, like that of frontline warriors and they moved with well oiled precision and their pikes killed many warriors. Then archers appeared in the trees and popped out from behind bushes, using crossbows and longbows, they felled many of the cavalry, as the horsemen rode by.
Lucas noted with a smile, one that was disguised by his great beard, that many of the recruits he had chosen were performing better than he had expected. A few of them had fallen, but the vast majority still stood, or in some cases, laid.
Lucas's great sword came down in wide arcs, it broke shields to pieces and any sword that tried to block an attack were shattered into a thousand irreperable pieces. It seemed to the guerrillas that this battle was almost won, when the magi appeared.
They had always been there, it seemed, just invisible, watching and waiting for the right time to pull their trick. They simply appeared one moment, power swirled around their hands in ever widening bands that intertwined, before shooting out. The magic touched both Lucas and Rael before they had a chance to use their talents, there was a boom so tremendous that it shook the battlefield itself. Many of the fighters fell to the ground, ears bleeding from the defeaning cuncussion. A single guerrilla archer let fly with an arrow, as the noise overtook him, he was unaware that his arrow found one of the magi and that mage fell to earth and stayed there. As well as a sound louder than any thunder there was a tremendous wind that swept over the entire battlefield, it pushed over man and beast alike, crushing the remaining horsemen upon their steeds.
Then, all was silent. Both Tiran and guerrilla looked around, all too tired and bloodied to lift their blades anymore. Lucas and Rael had simply vanished, along with all of the magi who had laid the ambush.